


Young and Beautiful

by Cantatrice18



Category: Miss Peregrine's Home for Peculiar Children (2016)
Genre: Backstory, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Missing Scene
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-17
Updated: 2017-05-17
Packaged: 2018-11-02 00:03:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,187
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10932786
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cantatrice18/pseuds/Cantatrice18
Summary: Shortly after the Augusta leaves Blackpool pier, Miss Peregrine collapses. Jake soon learns the truth about what happened to the Ymbryne after Barron caged her and took her away. He also learns why, of all the ymbrynes, Miss Peregrine was hunted the most. As the youngest and most beautiful of all her fellows, she presented a most appealing target. Immortality wasn't the only thing that the wights craved.Based on the 2016 movie.





	Young and Beautiful

She hid her pain so well, it was nearly a day before they realized. Birds often hid an injury, Horace informed them afterwards. An instinct, disguising anything that might show where their weaknesses lay. Darwin, and whatnot. Personally, Jake doubted Darwin had been writing about ymbrynes, but the end result was the same. A few hours after briskly instructing them all to start work on their new nautical home, and halfway through supervising a thorough clean of the kitchen, Miss Peregrine fainted. 

Jake had been elsewhere, staying as close to Emma as he could, but the terrified cries of the younger children soon drew them both to the scene. Basic first aid during an unfortunate year-and-a-half in Cub Scouts had taught him not to move someone injured, for fear of injuring them further. However, as Miss Peregrine's injuries had occurred hours, if not days earlier, Jake was willing to take the risk. He asked Bronwyn for assistance, remembering how easily the child had carried his own barely-conscious body into the loop for the first time. Bronwyn, her face streaked with tears, obeyed, and the ragtag group of peculiars processed down the halls of the rusted ship to the captain's quarters. There the little strong-arm deposited their Ymbryne on the bed, kissing her cheek lightly as she did so before turning away and beginning to cry once more. "No need for that," Emma told her and the other children briskly. "Miss Peregrine is probably just worn out from the strain of everything that's happened. I'm sure, with Jake's help, she'll be fine."

"Why Jake?" demanded Enoch. 

Jake himself was wondering the same thing, but tried not to show it. Emma placed her hands on her hips and gave Enoch a look that clearly implied what she thought of his question. "Because," she said slowly, as though speaking to someone quite dim, "Jake is from the future. He knows about modern medicine, at least more than we do, so that makes him more qualified to help. Doesn't it?" she demanded, turning to Jake.

"Um, sure," said Jake, shrinking a little beneath her gaze.

Enoch looked as though he were about to argue, but Olive placed a hand on his arm. "What can we do to help?" she asked Jake.

Jake hesitated. Most of his medical knowledge came from old episodes of ER that his mother liked to have running in the background whenever she was doing other things. "Hot water would be good," he said at last. "Clean, and with clean towels. Bandages too, if you can get them. And if there's any alcohol for antiseptic, that would be nice." 

Olive nodded and left, tugging Enoch behind her. Jake turned to Horace next. "There's got to be a library onboard somewhere. If the books aren't ruined, could you try to find me something about birds and their anatomy?" 

It was a long shot, that he knew, but any hint into the inner workings of an ymbryne would be much appreciated. After all, no one on ER had ever treated a bird-woman. Her outside might look the same as a normal person's, but that was no guarantee of what lay beneath the surface. "The rest of you," he said to the twins, Bronwyn, Fiona, Claire, and Hugh, "For now it would be best for you to go back to work cleaning up the ship. It's what Miss Peregrine asked, and there's nothing else you can do to help her at the moment."

The children shuffled forlornly out, leaving Jake and Emma momentarily alone. The girl reached out and took his hand. "You can help her, can't you?" she asked, concern audible in her voice now that the others had gone. 

"I'll do my best," Jacob told her. "Hopefully that will be enough."

Together they turned to face the bed where Miss Peregrine lay. The Ymbryne's limbs were limp and splayed awkwardly on the faded sheets as though she'd fallen from a great height. Tenderly, Emma reached across her and gathered her arms in to rest serenely at her sides. "Oh, Jake," Emma murmured. "What are we going to do?"

"We're going to find out what's wrong with her," Jake said, more boldly than he felt. "When Bronwyn lifted her up, I thought I saw a bloodstain on the back of her jacket. We'll start there."

Together they began to undo the row of tiny silver buttons that ran down the front of her tailored blue suit, carefully removing the jacket to reveal the creme silk camisole that lay beneath. Jake was infinitely glad to have Emma with him, not only because he would have felt excessively awkward undressing Miss Peregrine by himself, but because Emma was familiar with clothing from the 1940s, and knew which things fastened, which things laced, and where. They'd managed to take off Miss Peregrine's skirt as well, leaving the woman in only a knee-length slip and sleeveless camisole, when a knock at the door made them jump and spin around. But it was only Olive, come to provide them with hot water, bandages, and towels as requested. The only alcohol they'd been able to find was a bottle of 70 year-old scotch. Jake took it gratefully, saying it would do just fine. Olive nodded, looking distracted. Enoch was nowhere to be found, and Jake wondered whether they'd quarreled. He certainly hoped not, for all their sakes. 

Once Olive had departed, the pair returned to the matter at hand. "Do we really need to..." Emma asked, gesturing at Miss Peregrine's clothing. "I mean, all of it?"

"No," Jake assured her. "This'll be enough, for now." With trembling hands, he took hold of Miss Peregrine's shoulders and pulled her into a seated position. An ugly red patch stained the delicate silk of the woman's camisole, spreading out from the region of her shoulder blades. Bracing himself, Jake took hold of the camisole's hem and lifted it to expose Miss Peregrine's back.

Emma gasped in horror. Beneath the Ymbryne's shoulder blades a series of criss-crossing cuts, neat enough to have been done with a scalpel, bled sluggishly. "Those bastards," Emma hissed angrily. "Caging her wasn't enough, so they resorted to this in order to keep her from flying. Fiends!"

"Get a towel and wet it in hot water," Jake instructed. "At least we can clean these up a bit."

His attention drifted elsewhere as Emma began cleaning the scalpel wounds. At the nape of Miss Peregrine's neck two tiny round burn marks stood out black and charred against her pale skin. Looking down, he spotted another pair midway down her spine, and another at the waistband of her slip, where her hips began to widen. "What on earth are those?" he wondered aloud.

Emma leaned closer to look. "They're like electric burns," she murmured. 

"Why, though?" Jake persisted.

Emma looked worried. "Miss Peregrine never explained the original experiment to us, the one that created the Hollows. It's possible they used electric current."

"But in her human form?" Jake asked. "When I found the ymbrynes, they were birds."

"I wouldn't have thought they'd be interested in her as a human," said Emma. "But then, an ymbryne is an ymbryne, whether human or bird."

Another knock sounded at the door, and Jake quickly lay Miss Peregrine back down to hide her injuries in case one of the younger children entered and saw. He knew that even Claire and the twins were decades older than he was, but the instinct to protect their innocence still remained. 

The knocker proved to be Horace, who entered holding a half-rotted book under his arm and wearing a smug expression. "A Guide to Birds of Prey in Europe", he announced proudly. "Including anatomical descriptions and sketches of the peregrine falcon."

"Well done, Horace," said Emma, relief evident in her voice. "Let's take a look." 

Horace opened to the page he'd dog eared, and the three of them leaned over the book as he read. "The fastest of all birds, peregrines use their specially adapted flight feathers for diving, making themselves as aerodynamic as a speeding bullet, and just as deadly to rodents and small mammals."

"No wonder there were never any mice in the house," Emma said with a half smile.

"Feathers aren't helpful at this point, though," Jake pointed out. "Does it say anything about internal anatomy?"

"Not for peregrines, exactly," Howard admitted. "But there is a section about birds in general."

He turned to the front of the book, where a labeled drawing of a nondescript bird was visible on the water stained pages. "In order to achieve flight, birds have naturally hollow bones that form a lightweight, yet fragile skeleton. Many a well-meaning birder has inadvertently crushed a specimen while attempting to free it from a net."

The three exchanged nervous looks, glancing over at the pale and motionless Miss Peregrine. "I don't think she'd have been able to walk around if she'd broken bones," said Emma, sounding less than certain.

"What else?" prodded Jake.

Horace cleared his throat. "As I was saying," he continued pompously, "Birds fluff their feathers to ward off cold, but most European species are poorly adapted to hotter climates, and develop heat-stroke rapidly if not provided with shelter and fresh drinking water. This applies to hawks and soaring birds in particular, as the heat of the sun strikes their back directly, without the benefit of shade from surrounding vegetation." He looked up. "Not much chance of heat stroke in Blackpool, though, is there?"

Jake and Emma said nothing. Jake's mind had conjured images of the strange electrical burns along Miss Peregrine's spine, and from the look on Emma's face he could tell she was thinking the same thing. "Does the book describe symptoms of heat stroke?" she asked.

Horace paused. "Not here. But there's a disease section."

"There's a disease section?" said Jake irately. "Why didn't you say so before?"

"You didn't ask," replied Horace huffily. "You just said find out about peregrine anatomy, which I believe you'll find that I did. Quickly, too, I might add."

"Yes, you've done very well," Emma said placatingly, shooting Jake a warning look. " But as we haven't much time to dawdle, let's take a look at the entry on heat stroke."

With the dignity of a landed gentleman, Horace turned to the very back of the book. He ran a pale finger down the line of ailments until he reached the "H" section. Clearing his throat once more, he read, "Heat stroke presents first as profuse sweating, as the bird attempts to cool down, but the creature's body soon becomes dehydrated, allowing the intensity of the heat to build without any other defense. Often the bird will be seen panting or lifting its wings while perched in order to allow airflow around the body. Sometimes, however, a bird of prey becomes so occupied in a hunt that it is unaware of any problem until it is too late. The effects of heat stroke on a bird range from temporarily debilitating to catastrophic. Without proper care, a hawk found suffering from heat stroke will almost certainly perish within hours."

Horace looked up from the book, his eyes wide and frightened. For the first time since Jake had met him, he looked like a child. "Perish within hours?" he said, voice uncharacteristically high.

"That's without treatment," said Emma firmly. "Now that we've got a general idea of what's ailing Miss Peregrine, it will be much easier to care for her. She'll recover, there's no need to panic yet."

Horace nodded, looking down at the book he held as though it were a foreign object. "Why don't you go help the others," Jake suggested. "Keep them calm."

"Good idea," Emma agreed. "I know the younger children look up to you and I'm certain your presence would be reassuring."

Horace nodded slowly, drawing himself up and raising his chin so that his nose was in the air the way it normally was. "I'll do my best," he told them.

He walked to the door. "Horace," called Emma. "Leave the book, please."

Looking somewhat abashed, Horace handed over the damaged volume and left, shutting the door behind him. The moment he was gone Emma turned to Jake, looking stricken. "Within hours?"

"If that's even what she has." Jake approached the bed once more and looked down at the dark-haired Ymbryne. "Personally, I think her condition has more to do with those burn marks. If they were using electricity on her, for torture or their own twisted purposes, it's more likely she's in shock."

"And how do we treat that, exactly?"

Jake balanced on the edge of the bed, taking hold of the ymbryne's shoulders once more. "Let's finish taking care of these cuts first. Then we can try to get her to drink something."

Emma shook her head doubtfully, but joined him at the bed anyway. Jake took another towel and poured scotch on one corner, patting the cloth carefully on the scalpel cuts. "Strange that none of the other Ymbrynes showed any sign of this," he remarked.

"Neither did Miss Peregrine, at first," pointed out Emma. "Perhaps all of them are falling ill around now,"

"I don't think so," Jake said thoughtfully. "I think they singled her out for a reason. Barron certainly seemed as though he'd been tracking her for a while by the time he reached the house." He waited for the familiar rush of guilt to pass. If he hadn't been so foolish, Barron might never have found them, and Miss Peregrine would never have had to give herself up to the wights. "They chose her specifically. She knew what Barron wanted her to do, too, and the way he wanted to cage her to transport her. But how?"

Before Emma could answer, they heard a groan from the woman on the bed. Miss Peregrine's lips were parted as though to cry out, her features twisted in pain. "Miss Peregrine," Emma said urgently, "Miss Peregrine, can you hear us?" 

"Get water," Jake ordered.

Emma ran to a water pitcher on the desk and poured a glass, her hands shaking so much that nearly half the liquid had spilled before she reached the bed once more. Jake accepted the glass and raised it carefully to Miss Peregrine's lips. He held his breath and tilted the glass. To his relief, Miss Peregrine swallowed the water with ease. As the final drops of water slid down her throat, her eyes opened. For a moment she stared blankly ahead, then her gaze shifted and she caught sight of the two children. "Miss Bloom," she said hoarsely "And Mr. Portman, too. Might I inquire what we three are doing here?"

"You collapsed," Emma explained. "We were all so worried, after what happened in Blackpool. We thought you might have heat stroke, or be in shock."

Miss Peregrine's smile was kind, if a bit sad. "Probably a combination of both. But ymbrynes are a hardy species. It would take more than a few wights to finish me off."

"Why did they do this to you?" Jake asked, more forcefully than he intended. "Those burn marks, the cuts on your back. What was the experiment?"

Miss Peregrine's face assumed an odd, closed expression. "At this point is does not matter what the experiment was. Thanks to your efforts, it shall not be repeated. I'm grateful to you both."

Emma hugged her, but Jake was frowning. "You lost blood from those cuts, but not a lot, and electroshock wouldn't have delayed results, like fainting," he mused aloud. "Even shock doesn't set in like that. They had to have done something else."

"Jake," said Emma reprovingly. 

Jake ignored her. "Whatever they did, it was clearly serious," he told Miss Peregrine. "Otherwise you never would have collapsed. You're too strong for that." His tone softened when he saw the way the ymbryne leaned against Emma. "I'm sorry to pry. I know it's rude, I just want to know so I can help."

Miss Peregrine smiled at him. "Of course you do. I would expect no less from Abe Portman's grandson." She sighed. "Yes, they did many things to me. Some were to ascertain the extent and strength of my power. Other experiments attempted to drain it and pass it on to one of the wights. Both times they tried that, the wight in question died." There was a note of vindictive triumph in her voice. "Still others, such as the cuts beneath my wings, were simply to weaken me and prevent my escape."

"And they tortured all the ymbrynes this way?" Emma whispered.

Jake caught the quick change of expression, the sidelong glance that told him enough. "Just you," he concluded.

Miss Peregrine nodded slowly, her eyes on Jake rather than Emma. "Yes. Just me."

"Why?" Emma exclaimed. She sounded as though she might cry.

"Some say, though it is difficult to prove, that I am the strongest of the Ymbrynes," Miss Peregrine told them quietly, taking Emma's hand and stroking the back it with her thumb. "Personally, I doubt it. The rumors have to do with the strength and prowess of a peregrine falcon versus that of other, weaker birds, but over the centuries several legendary ymbrynes, such as Miss Starling and Miss Flicker, fell into the supposedly weaker category. The undeniable fact, however, is that I am the youngest ymbryne."

"By how much?" Jake asked, curious. 

"By precisely seventy-one years, two months, and eight days," Miss Peregrine replied. "Miss Finch is the next youngest, and then Miss Mallard."

"I had no idea," said Emma wonderingly. "Of course, I knew Miss Avocet and Miss Bunting were older, from the way you spoke about them, but I thought there were more around your age."

"Alas, no," said Miss Peregrine. She seemed quite casual, as though teaching a brief lesson on British history, but Jake noticed a slight tension in the way she held herself. "Ymbrynes are born through random coincidence, not genetic succession, and it just so happened that I was born in a dearth of ymbryne candidates. But my elders raised me well, and I never lacked for anything."

"The wights knew you were the youngest," Jacob confirmed. " They singled you out for torture because of it."

"Well..." Mrs. Peregrine paused. "Yes, I suppose that's why."

Jake's eyes roved over the slim, pale woman with her dark hair and fine features. He had an awful feeling in the pit of his stomach, a foreboding. Miss Peregrine's youth wasn't the only thing defining her and keeping her separate from her peers. She was also absolutely stunning. Little by little, he was finally starting to understand the looks that had passed between Miss Peregrine and Barron, the dread in her voice when she'd given herself up. "They chose you for your beauty."

Miss Peregrine did not respond at once, and when she did her response was directed at Jake alone. "There is no way to know their motivations. However, may I say that I am very glad you found me when you did. I do not think I could have lasted much longer in their care."

"Emma," Jake said suddenly. "Would you mind telling the other children that Miss Peregrine is awake, but needs some privacy. I know they're worried."

Emma looked confused, but nodded and left, shutting the door behind her. There was a long silence. Then Jake said, "I don't want to force you to talk about anything you don't want to. And maybe I'm totally wrong. But if what I think happened actually happened, then we need to get you looked at by a real doctor."

Miss Peregrine remained quiet for a moment. "You're a perceptive young man," she said at last. "I've no doubt that living in your era has given you many insights into the ways of men and women, insights my children thankfully lack, existing as they have inside the loop. I can assure you, though, that I need no outside specialist. Unlike normal women, ymbrynes suffer no long term consequences from such events."

She looked almost disappointed. Jake, still certain he was missing pieces, took Emma's place at her side and reached tentatively for her hand. "You aren't alright, though. You're in pain, and not just your body. Your heart as well."

Miss Peregrine accepted his hand, lacing their fingers together. "I'll be fine, eventually. All things considered, the wights did remarkably little damage to my body. As for my heart..." She glanced away. "It's difficult to explain. I will say this: there are many tragic ironies in life, big and small, but perhaps the greatest among our people involves my species. You recall my saying to you that an ymbryne is created through chance, not because of parentage? The primary reason is that Ymbrynes, the peculiars tasked solely with the care of the young, cannot have children. Our bodies were not made for it, our inner workings are too compromised from transformation and our manipulation of time. We, who would die for the sake of other people's children, are barren."

"That's horrible," murmured Jake.

"It is," Miss Peregrine agreed quietly. "More than that, it has left us the objects of desire for those who know our physical limits. In ancient Babylon, kings would give a hunter his weight in gold if he managed to capture an ymbryne. The idea of a caged bird able to transform on command into a beautiful young woman, a woman who could be forced to remain young, forced to do many things, and who would never have children...well, it ensnared the imagination of many a ruler. It's no wonder that Ymbrynes have learned techniques to age themselves quickly, in order to deter predators."

"And you?" 

Miss Peregrine grimaced. "I am a vain fool, too caught up in the thrill of a neat figure and stylish clothes to protect myself. For seventy years I ought to have been carefully aging myself outside the loop, but I did not. My pride overtook my common sense. I deserved my fate."

"Don't say that," Jake insisted. "You would never say something like that if Emma had been hurt, or Olive. You did nothing wrong."

"Jake," Miss Peregrine murmured placatingly

"Listen to me," Jake pleaded. "How much harder would it have been to keep track of a houseful of children if you were old and grey? How could you explain your aging to the children, when they could never age without leaving the loop? And in any case, why should you be forced to change what you enjoy about your appearance, simply because there are monsters like Barron?"

Miss Peregrine looked as though she were about to cry. Instead, she pulled Jake into a tight embrace. "Our world became a brighter place when you walked into our loop."

Jake hugged her back, trying to hold back his own tears. In the few short days he'd known her, this woman had become more to him than even a mother. She was a beacon of strength, the essence of all things selfless and loving. He'd made his choice to stay because of Emma, but Miss Peregrine had never been far from his mind. "Let's get you bandaged up," he said at last. "The children want to see you, to know you're alright."

"Well, we'd better get a move on," said Miss Peregrine briskly. "Too much to do on this wreck of a ship to lie about in bed for ages."

"I told them to keep cleaning," Jake informed her, "But who knows if they listened. After all, they've been a bit preoccupied."

"As soon as I've reassured them that the unfortunate incident will not repeat itself, we can all get back to work."

"You're absolutely sure you'll be alright?" Jake asked doubtfully.

"Quite sure." Miss Peregrine's smile held equal parts affection and humor. "I'm certain that a good night's sleep and a bite to eat are all that are needed to get me in the air once more. To be quite truthful, I don't think I've slept since I was taken from our house, and I know I haven't eaten."

Jake returned her smile with an awkward one of his own. With her guidance and help, they managed to wrap a tightly woven linen bandage around her torso several times, covering the scalpel cuts. Emma arrived in time to help Miss Peregrine dress, and Jake decided that giving the pair of them some time alone would be best. The two women had always been close, and a moment of privacy was apt to help both of them recover. Leaving the captain's cabin, he shut the door behind him and headed toward the sound of voices. His conversation with Miss Peregrine still echoed in his ears, the thought of what she and every other ymbryne faced upon capture making him shiver. Now was not the time to dwell upon it, however. There was work to be done, a ship to be repaired. And so long as Miss Peregrine kept herself well and whole, Jake would ensure no man or monster laid a hand on her again.


End file.
